


Through Open Windows

by seradiss



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Fade to Black, Fluff, M/M, self indulgent stucky feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 12:50:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2229615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seradiss/pseuds/seradiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky is messed up and Steve is oblivious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through Open Windows

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first posted work, so please be kind. I love writing Stucky because I find both of them so relatable in different ways. This is my take on angsty fluffy-times. Utterly self indulgent fluff, forgive me. Working title was "fucking stebe"

Early morning sunlight filtered through Steve’s huge windows, illuminating his blond hair as he slept peacefully on the carpeted floor of his living room. Looking down on him, Bucky thought the pale sunlight made Steve look like he had a halo. Steve had always been an angel, the person who cares for stray cats, who carries olf ladies’ groceries-even back when he was probably weaker than they were- who always fought the good fight. Captain America is a symbol, and idea rather than a person, but the man under the mask is the best man James Buchanan Barnes has ever known. Steve isn’t perfect- Bucky knows his flaws better than anyone- but Erksine saw something in Steve when he hose him to be America’s golden boy. Steven Rogers has always been Bucky’s golden boy, the apple of his eye. Before the muscles and the star spangled spandex and the USO jingles, Bucky had looked at Steve- all 98 pounds of him- and seen a hero. The women and the whiskey and the war hadn’t changed that.

 

Bucky shifted his position on Steve’s floor to brush back a strand of Steve’s hair with his right hand- his real hand. Steve was always adamant about Bucky touching him with both hands, insisting that he wanted all of him. But Steve was asleep, and if Bucky still shied away from the cold metal of that arm- hated it, if he was being honest with himself- well, then steve never had to know. Steve never needed to know that Bucky wanted to rip the smooth expanse of metal from his flesh, spinal implants be damned. He never needed to know that Bucky could stand to look at it.

 

Steve was so open, so loving, so forgiving, but Bucky doubted he would ever forgive himself. He wondered daily how Steve could kiss a killer, could hold hands with a murderer, could take a monster to bed at night. Buct the love in Steves eyes never faltered, was never tinged with fear or anger or disgust.

 

A cloud rolled over the still-rising sun, throwing shadows into the hollows of Steve’s cheekbones, under his eyes, the dip beneath his full lips. In this light he looked tired, fragile, young, like Bucky hadn’t seen him look in what felt like a lifetime. But just as quickly as the shadow had appeared, it was gone, and B ucky was looking down at plain old Steve again. Plain old angelic Steve, his skin healthy and glowing and his hair a golden halo around his face. The dark never could keep Steve down for long.

 

“I love you,” Bucky whispered, mostly to himself, knowing Steve couldn’t hear him. He hadn’t said it yet, not since he came back a broken man. A different man. He didn’t know how, couldn’t find the words because he was so scared, scared that at any moment Steve could realize his mistake, see that Bucky was a monster with hands stained in innocent blood. He hadn’t been a beacon of purity in the 40s, but at least back then he’d felt like he’d deserved Steve’s love. They were equals in their adoration, taking on the world as a two man army. But what was Bucky now? A broken toy, a hollowed out shell of the man Steve fell in love with. Steve deserved more. Steve deserved better.

 

“I love you, too.”

 

The reply was quiet, gravely with overnight disuse, but it was there.

 

“I...thought you were asleep…” Bucky stuttered out, startled and slightly mortified.

 

“And I thought you didn’t love me anymore, so I guess we’re even,” Steve replied, covering a yawn with one large artist’s hand.

 

“What?” Bucky gasped, horrified. He hadn’t been able to say it, but since coming back to himself months ago he had tried to show it to Steve in every kiss, every brush of skin, every naked tear that he let Steve in to see.

 

“You didn’t say anything, and I figured you didn’t remember, or your feelings had changed…” Steve looked down, his blue eyes catching the light before they disappeared from view.

 

“But we’ve kissed! We’ve fucked! Why would I do those things if I didn’t love you?” Bucky was confused, distraught, worried.

 

“Coping? I don’t know, maybe I was a little piece of home? Something you remembered and wanted to keep? I wasn’t about to tell you no, but I assumed it was just sex for you, just….something to do to distract yourself…” Steve was blushing and his voice shook. The look on his face told Bucky in no uncertain terms that he was being forced to admit to something he really didn’t want to address.

 

“You’ve been fuckin’ me for months thinking it was just a fuckin’ game to me?! What the hell, Steve?!” Bucky’s voice rose, too loud for the stillness of the quickly brightening living room. His Brooklyn accent mounted with every word as he got more flustered, his voice echoing off the bare walls of the room.

 

Steve didn’t reply.

 

Bucky stared him down, horrified that he’d been inadvertently hurting Steve, hating himself for not being able to bring himself to say it.

 

Bucky leaned down, cupping Steve’s face as he kissed him, not allowing morning breath to kill the moment.

 

“I love you, Steve,” he whispered into Steve’s mouth between kisses. “I love you,” he mouthed into Steve’s skin between tiny nips and brushes of his lips. He said it over and over until Steve could never doubt it’s verity. Even if it was stupid, even if it was reckless, even if it was selfish, Bucky loved Steve, and he wanted Steve’s love.

 

“I love you, too,” Steve managed to whisper into Bucky’s hair as he kissed his way down Steve’s chest. “Always have.”

  
Steve doesn’t say, “always will,” but they both hear it all the same.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this little foray into my childrens' mental health issues. Feel free to leave me comments, prompts or requests either here in the comments section or over on my tumblr at all-about-the-booty.tumblr.com. <3


End file.
